


Becoming Unbroken

by Chips2



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Businessmen, Fluff and Smut, Grief/Mourning, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2020-12-24 01:49:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21091385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chips2/pseuds/Chips2
Summary: Following a recent motorcycle accident that has resulted in a broken leg, highflying bad boy businessman Robert Sugden is dependent on his driver to get around. When the chauffeur company he's hired send Aaron to temporarily replace Robert's usual driver, both assume it's just another standard day 'at the office'. Neither can imagine how their lives will be changed completely by entering into each other's lives.Milking that standard trope of opposites attract with a couple of surprises thrown in!





	1. The Bad Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a hard day's night for Mr Sugden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robert, the bad boy.

** Robert **

I wake up the morning after the night before. I feel sore and tired. Total body ache and foggy brain. It’s a familiar combo. It means that last night was a wild one.

Party. Sex. Alcohol.

It capped off my first day back at the office after three weeks away. A hard day’s work was followed by a hard day’s night. If you’re thinking I was out with friends you’d be wrong. I’m not a ‘friend’ kind of guy. Not the way most people have friends. I have people who like me for my money. Those who are into me because of my looks. And those who tolerate me because of my influence; what I can do for them. Colleagues. Employees. Brown-nosers. Chancers. Hook ups. Whatever. They don’t really like me. They don’t bother to get to know the real me so why bother myself? It is what it is. It’s better this way. No fuss. Straight forward. Uncomplicated. Transactional. I scratch your back. You scratch mine.

No one gets hurt.

“Hey. Are you still sleeping?”

I frown at the unexpected voice. I thought I was in bed alone. Clearly not. The voice is child-like. Marilyn Monroe-esque. It floods my mind with memories of last night. A club in town. A few too many shots down my neck. Perched at the bar. Bopping my head while I pretended to listen to a work colleague while I was scoping out other clubbers.

The voice in my bed belongs to a woman who was there. She shimmied up to me in the club and blocked the view I had of some guy I was checking out on the dance floor. She was in a short geometric yellow dress. High energy. A mass of bouncy tight black curls. Smooth caramel skin. Athletic body. Cute face. Her big brown eyes were wide and attentive, tracking every move I made. 

My vanity approved.

_‘Are the crutches there purely for sympathy?’_ She shouted at me over the loud music as she eyed the sticks that I had propped against the bar. She positioned herself unnecessarily close to me while pretending she was trying to get the bartender’s attention. She was fooling no one. She turned to me and made a move,

_‘Or are you using them as a visual pick up line?’_ She smiled at me with the confidence of someone who had never known rejection.

_‘Is it working?’_ I looked at her as I swallowed from my pint of lager.

I already knew the answer. She was doing the batting eyelashes/flicking hair thing. _‘It might be.’_

What was the harm in giving her the Robert Sugden charm offensive? If she was up for it, fine. If not, also fine.

_‘Anyone told you, you sound like a Yorkshire version of Marilyn Monroe?’_

That was not a line. Not completely anyway. She really did have a soft breathy tone with a Northern twang.

She laughed. _‘Never!’_ She gripped my bicep, gave it a squeeze and lingered on it. _‘Oh, you’re funny!’_

I really wasn’t that funny. Not even close.

I was out with a colleague. What had started as a celebratory afterwork drink at a swanky bar with a few of us from the company had progressed to just him and me in this super-club in the centre of town. He would have normally tapped out like the rest did and made his excuses to go back to his dull mundane family life, but tonight Jimmy seemed determined to join me in seeing the night through. 

He drunkenly stepped between the woman and me and swung an arm over my shoulders.

_‘This is why I don’t come out with you, Rob. You always leave me looking like a Billy no mates.’_ He shouted as he glanced at ‘Marilyn’. _‘Honestly, how do you do it?’_

_‘Do what?’ _

_‘I could have stayed home with me wife and kids if I had known I’d be speaking to the furniture.’_ Jimmy rolled his eyes at me.

I smirked. _‘What? And be boring.’ _

He leaned in close so that I got a whiff of the bourbon that he had been throwing down. _‘It’s called love, Rob. You should try it. Feels amazing. Well… when Nick isn’t nagging at me about summat.’_

I suppress the ache in my heart with a big swig of lager and tease him. _'You called her a three headed dragon yesterday.'_

_He looks whimsical and sighs. 'Yeah. God, I love that woman!'_

LOVE= useless emotion.

Jimmy turned to ‘Marilyn’._ ‘He’s broken his leg, love. That’s why he’s got crutches. Even his limp hasn’t damaged his mojo, though.’_

_‘Why don’t you have a plaster cast then?’_ ‘Marilyn’ picked up one of the crutches before I could answer and pushed it against my chest like a restraining weapon.

_‘What the fuck?’_ I looked at her with bemusement.

_‘Your friend seems to think you’re a bit wild.’ _She had a twinkle in her eye. _‘Do you need restraining?’_

Holy shit. OKAY.

I grinned and, in that moment, caught the eye of the fit bloke I was eyeing up before ‘Marilyn’ walked up to me. He had stopped dancing and looked intrigued by what he was seeing. He was smiling too. Sly and sexy. I subtly indicated for him to come over.

_‘Restraining? Rob?’_ Jimmy laughed at ‘Marilyn’. _‘That may be the understatement of the century.’_

+

Last night was crazy.

It is enough for me to have a moment in the cold light of the morning, with ‘Marilyn’ still in my overworked bed, to pause and reflect. Am I spiralling out of control? Are things getting a little too wild? Was what we did in the back seat of the car while my driver turned a blind eye and drove me and my guests back to mine a step too far? Have I left decency too far in the past?

No.

No. I am not hurting anyone. I am young. Relatively. I work hard. It’s okay if this is how I choose to let my hair down. Chill. Unwind. (Forget).

I am not hurting anyone.

“You never said how you broke it last night.” ‘Marilyn’s’ voice is right up against my ear.

“Hum?” I reluctantly roll over in bed to face her and slowly open my eyes.

I’ll be honest. I would have preferred if she wasn’t still here now. Normally my hook ups get the hint and either leave before I get up or soon after.

I check her out. At least I didn’t have beer goggles on last night. She’s still stunning.

“I was asking how you broke your leg, Mr Sleepy.” She giggles as she reaches out to rest her hand on my chest. “We didn’t get to talk about it yesterday.”

There was almost no talking yesterday. 

I smile. “No.”

“We had other distractions.” She glances behind me and her demeanour gets coy. I follow her eyeline and look behind me too.

Ah. Yeah.

THAT.

The bloke from the dance floor. Still fast asleep. Still butt naked. Legs splayed wide. Pert perfect bum.

“I have never, you know…?” ‘Marilyn’ has a small smile on her face. “… done that before.”

I match her raised eyebrow. “You’ll need to be more specific.”

We did a lot, the three of us. A blur of lusty stuff.

“Been with a blond guy.” Her eyes laugh.

“Funny.”

“Okay seriously….” She buries her face into my chest and whispers, “Threesome… It was a first. I can’t believe it. Amazing.”

She curls up to me tightly, like a koala, and kisses me. Her smooth body clings onto mine under the sheets. Her little peck tries to deepen into a full on make out sess. But I’m not feeling it. Not anymore. I pull away hoping that makes it clear that the fun is over.

Was it fun?

Why do I feel so numb now?

“Was it your first time?”

I ignore her question and partly turn down the sheet enough to expose my left leg. It’s aching like crazy.

“So, you’re into both?”

After last night she must know the answer to both her questions, so I let my silence be my speaker.

I should have been more careful. The doctor said physio was important but perhaps not in the way I practiced it last night.

The sheet of skin over my left thigh that was scratched out by me skidding over tarmac is all but healed into scabs. Not attractive. The bruises and surgical scars caused by the internal fixation the orthopaedic docs had to do to realign my fracture and immobilise it with a titanium rod are looking better. Still healing. The stitches just below my knee itch and throb.

“It looks sore.” Marilyn says.

“It’s better.”

“What happened?”

“I fell off my motorbike and broke both bones in my lower leg.”

Her face scrunches up in sympathetic pain. “Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“Three weeks ago.”

“Shouldn’t you be taking it easy?” She shuffles close to me again. She’s getting a little too comfortable for my liking. Too comfortable in my bed.

I peel myself off her and sit up. I carefully bend my knee and run a finger over the stitches.

‘Marilyn’ sits up and scoots up next to me. She’s like bloody Velcro.

She gently touches my knee. “I suppose it could have been much worse. A mate of a mate of mine died a few years back after a car side swiped him. My mate was gutted.”

I feel crowded, suddenly. My personal space has been invaded by an overly tactile overly chatty girl and a still passed out bloke.

I run my hand impatiently through my hair and stare at her. “I need to get ready for work.”

“Oh. Okay.” She looks around. Looking for the time. Her eyes land on the clock on the wall opposite the bed. Below it, on one of the drawers, is a group of three photos in frames. Her eyes squint as she takes them in.

“Which means you have to go.” I say firmly.

She looks deflated. “Who’s the woman in that picture with you, hugging you?”

I stand up too quickly, flinch and wobble when I realise, I have put too much weight through my broken limb.

“You’re not married, are you?” She pulls the sheet around herself, suddenly shy and moral. It’s laughable after what we got up to last night.

“No. Never.”

I hop out of bed and hop to get around the bed to stand over our third bed mate.

“Oi…” What’s his name again? “… wake up.”

Come to think of it, what’s _her_ name?

Does it even matter?

‘Marilyn’ stares at me while I lean over ‘Nice bum’ and soundly slap his arse.

His head springs off the pillow like a meerkat. He looks startled, disorientated and half asleep as he stares dazedly at me.

“Up for another round?” He whispers then yawns.

“No.”

My two guests.

They have outstayed their welcome.

“It’s time to go.” I look between them and feel like a stern head mistress. “Both of you. Now.”

My phone starts ringing.

‘Marilyn’ brushes aside a condom packet that was resting on it and picks my phone up from the bedside table before looking at the caller ID and tossing it at me.

I catch it, frown at her before checking it myself. It’s a mobile number unfamiliar to my phone.

“Hello.”

“Hi. Yeah. Good morning. I’m here to take you to work, Mr Sugden. Paddy asked me.”

My frown deepens. “Where’s Paddy?”

Paddy has been my driver, shuttling me everywhere, since I got hurt.

“He can’t work today because of his hours… after last night.” The driver’s gravelly voice pauses. He clears his throat. “He got home 3 hours ago after a 19-hour shift. It’s for safety, sir. Yours and his. It’s one of our firm’s policies. He needs appropriate rest before he can come back. I promise you’re in good hands today.”

“Who are you?”

“Aaron. I’ve got ID if you want to check when you come out.”

I sigh as I stare at my bed and its human contents. I motion for them to look lively and get moving.

“Well, Aaron. You’ll have to wait a few minutes. I have some cleaning up to do here first.”

“No problem, Mr Sugden. I’ll be waiting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up...
> 
> Aaron


	2. The Freshly Hatched Gay

**Aaron**

I am nudged awake by an elbow.

“Hey. Get up.” Alex whispers.

Shit. I fell asleep. At his place. In his bed. After we had sex. Fuck. 

I remember him spooning up to me after, whispering something, then falling asleep. It was too familiar, too soon- like a stranger introducing himself by kissing on the lips. I didn’t push Alex off though. Should have. That was a big mistake. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. I should have got up and got out like I have before, but I was too tired, and it was easier to stay. I didn’t count on falling asleep. 

“Aaron. Wake up.” He hisses.

This is embarrassing. Chances are he doesn’t want me here anymore than I want to be here. 

I wipe sleep from my eyes. “Yeah. Sorry. Must have fallen asleep. I’m going.”

“What? No! That’s not what I meant- it’s your phone. It’s gone off once already.” 

“What?” I’m still half asleep.

“Your phone...” He smiles gently at me.” Are you going to answer it or-?”

I hear it vibrating. 

“Oh.” It’s on the floor, by his bed and still tucked into my jeans pocket. I remember stripping out of them and my boxers before he tugged me into bed last night.

I reach out for it and look at the caller ID. “It’s Paddy.”

“Who’s Paddy?” Alex mumbles. “Should I be jealous?”

I frown at him. Who the fuck is he to feel jealous? “Paddy is my step-dad. Remember? My mum’s admission? Visiting hours? Bald head. Tubby.”

“Oh. Yeah. Awkward energy. I like him.”

Paddy is calling from his work phone, so I groan. “He’s my boss too.”

“Sounds messy.”

“Sometimes.” I answer the call. “It’s gone 3, Paddy. What is it?”

Alex folds his arms around me, makes a show of burrowing himself against me and closes his eyes again. I am going to need to remind him that the hugging thing is unnecessary. 

“I’m outside your place. Where are you?” Paddy asks.

“Leeds.”

There’s a pause. “At that Dr Alex’s place?” 

“I know other people in Leeds.” I mutter, but at the same time Alex pipes in with,

“Yep. He’s with me.” 

Great. Fantastic. Paddy is going to get the wrong end of the stick and excitedly blab to mum that I am dating the ‘hot doctor’ from the hospital who recently helped her get better from another Crohn’s flare. 

To be clear, I am _ not _dating Alex.

“Brilliant! That’s great, Aaron!” Paddy might not be on speakerphone but his surprised, yet excited voice carries in the quiet room. Alex grins. 

I roll my eyes again. “Is it?”

“Tell Dr Mason ‘hi’ and t-thanks again for everything.”

“Please call me Alex.”

I huff and turn away from Alex and hiss quietly into the phone to Paddy. “You’ve already told him thanks a million times.” 

“Yeah well, your mum was very impressed with his b-bed-side manner… And it sounds like you’re happy with it too so-”

I feel my neck go red, so I cut Paddy off. “Are you going to tell me why you’ve called or what?”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s work. Bloody Robert Sugden.” He growls. 

I should probably fill you in. 

My stepdad and my uncle co-own a chauffeuring business called _ Grace Chauffeuring Services ltd, _ based in Hotten, about forty minutes out of Leeds. I work for them, managing the books. The business does okay but we are looking to expand by attracting more commercial and industry contracts. A few weeks back I was approached by the personal assistant to the CEO of _ Sugden Industrie _s, a company that manufactures farm equipment for grain moving, handling and storage. The boss is Robert Sugden. He had experienced an accident and needed a driver for up to ten weeks to help get him around.

It felt like we hit the lottery. I figured that if we played our cards right and impressed one of Yorkshire’s richest businessmen, we could potentially secure a huge chauffeuring contract with his company. That is why Paddy was picked as his driver. Although he doesn’t do hands on chauffeuring as much now-a-days, he is our most experienced chauffeur.

We cannot fuck this job up.

I sit up in bed, suddenly wide awake. “What happened?” 

“I literally just finished for the day! Let’s start w-with that. I don’t think Sugden sleeps!”

I frown. “Isn’t he for a 7 am pick up tomorrow?”

“Today, you mean. In just over three hours’ time? Yes. I can’t do it. It’s not safe. I’ve been up since five. I don’t know how he does it. He got into work before most of his exec team. Then he went to some corporate afterwork drinks. Then dinner at some posh place. I figure we were done when he wanted dropping off at home with a work mate after that but no. He got himself freshened up and I ended up taking him and that mate to some club in Leeds for a night out!”

“In the middle of the week?”

“Yep. You’ll need to get someone to cover for me today.”

I re-check the time and groan. “There’s no chance I can get someone at such short notice. All our drivers are booked up.”

“All I know is we can’t cancel on him and I can’t drive him.”

“Shit. Okay.” I say. “You’re right. I’ll have to ask Cain.”

My uncle, Cain, has been a ‘silent-ish’ partner to Paddy. He injected money into the business and supplied our vehicles at a good price. Every so often he puts his mechanic background to use to tune up our motors. That’s his strength. On the flip side; he is shit with PR. He is not what people would call ‘customer friendly’.

“No.” Paddy gasps. “Sugden is a handful and you know our Cain. If he gets pissed off, our precious CEO will find himself locked up in the boot of one of our cars dangling off some cliff with duct tape over his lips.”

Terrifyingly possible. But then who can I get to do the job?

“I’ll drop the car off at the d-depot now. Can you book it in for a proper clean?”

“Goes without saying.”

“Not just a regular valet. I’m talking a deep clean. Concentrating on the b-back seat.”

“Why?”

“A professional chauffeur never tells.” Paddy pauses. “But okay. Since you insist.”

“I didn’t.”

“Don’t go spreading t-this around but last night Sugden stumbled out of the club with two s-strangers. They got into the car with him…and… let’s just say that things got ‘over eighteen only’.” My stepdad sighs. “You know that thing your mum lets me d-do with her when she’s in a good mood and-”

Wait? What? Is he going to talk about the private sex stuff he does with my mum? I don’t want to know.

“No.”

“No. No! Not that! I mean when she gets an extra straw for me so we can both sip from her half pint of lager.”

“Oh. Yeah.” 

Thank God.

“Imagine a dirty v-version… of that...”

I’m confused. “They spilled lager on the seats?”

“No! Fine. I’ll spell it out for you. Sugden was in the middle seat and his guests were… they... were taking turns at ‘s-sipping’ h-his ‘half pint’... if you know what I mean.”

I look back at Alex. He has been eavesdropping. His eyes are wide like saucers. Half shock. Half amused. 

“Every time I used my rear-view mirror, I got a bloody view of his… thing and them… all over it...” I hear my stepfather shudder.

To make sure we are on the same page I ask, “When you say ‘half-pint’ do you mean-”

“Yes! Yes! That!” Paddy sounds traumatised. “And there was nothing half-pint about Sugden’s!” 

“Live porn.” Alex chuckles at me and whispers, “He could have put the privacy screen up. Just saying.”

I shake my head. “Paddy, you used the _ Lexus _, right?” 

“Yes. Should have got the limo.”

I mouth to Alex, ‘_ no privacy screen’. _

Alex raises an eyebrow. 

“Anyway. Back to the point of this call. You’ll have to drive him today, Aaron.”

“No chance. I have the business to run and I haven’t chauffeured in over a year.” 

“Your mum can keep things ticking over and I can help out when I’ve had some kip. And chauffeuring isn’t rocket science. Just remember what I t-taught you. Drive safely. Be polite, punctual, poised and available. _ ‘All eyes and ears. No lip.’ _ “

I sigh. I don’t really have options, have I? “Okay. Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Promise me you won’t get goby with him first.”

“As if I would.”

“I know you, Aaron.”

“Okay, I won’t get goby.”

“Thank you.”

“But I’m only doing it for today, Paddy.”

“That’s all I need to recover.”

“Good.”

“And Aaron.”

“What now?”

“Wear that suit that your mum got you for your birthday a couple of years ago.”

That’s my most expensive one. It’s only been worn for my uncle’s wedding and my baby sister’s christening so far. Paddy is obviously keen for us to impress Sugden. 

“Fine.” I grunt then hang up.

“One time I had to remove a deodorant can from a patient’s rectum in A&E. I thought that was a lot, but your stepdad’s story is another level.”

I look at Alex. “Gross and also, do you always snoop in on people’s private phone conversations?”

He smiles. “Only when they are as juicy as that one was.” He sits up in bed next to me and kisses me. 

I pull away and whisper. “I should go home. You heard him.” I point at my phone. “I have to start getting ready in two hours and I need to get my suit from home.”

Without warning, Alex grabs me and pulls me back to lay in his bed. He climbs over me and gives me a deep kiss. I know what he’s going for. Literally. His grips my butt in his hand. He pushes our hips together. His cheek brushes against my stubble as he plants a wet kiss into my neck then kisses me again. 

He smiles. “Two hours is plenty.”

I gently push him off and stand up, avoiding his grasping hands successfully this time.

I tug my jeans on as he flops back into bed in defeat. 

“Fine.” He mumbles with a faint grin. “We could meet up tonight if you want?”

“Yeah.” I throw my top on. I am learning that hooking up is a very effective stress reliever. “I can drop by after I am done with work.”

“I mean, I was thinking that we could get a bite to eat. There’s a really good Mexican on Harrogate road.”

I stop. That sounds a lot like a date. I turn to Alex and I do not like what I see. It looks a lot like hope.

“I’ll think about it.” I say.

“I know we said that this was going to be a casual thing, but we’ve hooked up a few times now. And I like you, Aaron. I think we get along great.” He bites his lip. “Am I fucking up right now?”

I sigh. “No. It’s just, I told you that I’m not looking for a boyfriend yet.”

“Who said anything about a boyfriend?” Alex grins. “Don’t flatter yourself, Aaron Dingle. Are you hot? Yes. Do you give good banter? Definitely. Do I like hanging out with you? Absolutely. Do I think you are boyfriend material? Clearly. But don’t think for a second that I make that leap quickly and easily. You have to work to get with someone as highly eligible as I am!”

“Modest.” I mutter.

He stares at me smugly from his bed. Posh accent, tousled hair and toned body. There is a lot to like about Alex. He is right that we get along. And the sex is good, but I am, as my best friend calls me, a ‘freshly hatched gay’. I was late to come out for this day and age. It was a long tortuous struggle, mainly because of my own internalised fears rather than how people responded to me once I finally admitted it. Being out and exploring my sexuality is still quite new to me. Secondly, while I like Alex, there is something that doesn’t totally click with him. I can’t put my finger on it. I just know that I am not head over heels or anywhere close with him.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. Forget I said anything. Just come over after work like normal.”

+

I get home, have a couple of hours more kip, take a shower, wolf down some breakfast, get dressed and go to work, grab the car I am going to use today before making my way to Sugden’s place.

My best mate calls on the way.

“Hiya. You alright?”

“Yeah. Morning, mate.” Adam sounds like he’s already driving too. “The logbook said you’ve got the _ Jag _.”

“Yeah. The _ Lexus _ has gone in for a deep clean.”

“Ah. Vom or spilled drink?”

“Neither. Bodily fluids apparently.”

“Oh shit!” He chuckles. “Go on.”

“Can’t now. I’ll fill you in over a pint. I had a look at it this morning though. There’s nothing there but Paddy insisted. If he could he would deep clean his eyes after what he saw last night.”

“Fucking clients! Anyway, why are you driving? Sugden is Paddy’s job.”

“I’m covering him today. He had a late finish. Sugden was at some club all night.”

“Makes sense. I’ve heard he’s a bit of a player. The bad boy of business.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You know Finn. My cousin-”

“Yeah. I know Finn.”

“‘Course you do, lad! Almost forgot! Biblically! He popped your gay cherry!”

“We don’t talk about that.” Finn and I slept together a while back. 

He was gay. He suspected I was gay even though I was in full blown denial. He was nice and understanding with me. I opened up to him and … one thing led to another and we had a slightly drunken fumble. Let’s call the whole situation ‘gay confusion’ and leave it in the past where it belongs.

Adam giggles. “Anyway. Finn works for Sugden. Apparently, the man is a bit of an enigma. I could get Finn to find stuff out about him if you want.”

“Why would I want you to do that?”

“So that we can kill it with the service we offer him- make it personal and bespoke so that we have a fighting chance of winning a crazy big contract with his company. I thought you were the brains in this friendship. I can’t carry beauty _ and _intelligence, mate!”

Adam’s idea isn’t bad. “I still have Finn’s number. I’ll give it to Paddy so that he can dig into it.”

“Nice one. By the way, thanks for doing me a solid today, client-wise. I’m on my way to pick her up.”

I’ve booked Adam in to ferry around a soap actress that he has chauffeured for previously. 

He squeals with joy. “She’s fit, mate!”

“I didn’t do it for you, bro. I did it to provide her continuity of service.”

“It all amounts to me and her and sexual tension between the four walls of the car. So, thanks! Have I told you that I think she wants me! And who can blame her?! I mean look at me!”

“Modest.”

“Not that I have any chance to pull her with the fucking _ Mercedes _.”

“And the fact that she has a boyfriend.”

“But she wants me!”

I laugh. “You wish! And anyway. There’s no messing with the clients. You know the rules.”

He groans. “I hate that rule.”

+

_ “You have reached your destination.” _

I turn off the satnav. 

I am surprised. I expected Sugden to live in a swanky centre of town penthouse apartment in Leeds. Instead I am in the middle of the countryside, on the outskirts of a village that I know very well. Emmerdale. What a small world. Pretty much all my mother’s side of the family live and work in this village. I grew up here and only moved to Hotten as an adult, when the chauffeuring business was set up. Yet, despite knowing Emmerdale, where I am now is completely foreign to me. This corner of the village is rural luxury. The metal gates I have parked in front of reveal a sprawling estate with acres of well-tended lawns and green woods and an active farm just next door. 

Enigma. That is how Finn apparently described Robert Sugden and I am beginning to understand why. He is a successful young businessman who has somehow carried a family business to even greater success and yet he is also a bad boy, engaging in public sexual acts and clubbing late on weekday nights. He is a leader and yet irresponsible. He is a partygoer who lives in one of the quietest, quaintest nooks in Yorkshire. 

Yeah, I’d call him an enigma and I haven’t even met him yet.

I take out my phone and call him. Paddy’s instructions.

_ ‘Don’t ring the bell. It drives him nuts. Give him a ring on his personal phone when you arrive. Oh, and remember to keep things formal and polite. He can be a handful but don’t rise to the bait.’ _

His phone rings for so long that I prepare to leave a message.

“Hello.”

The tone is abrupt. Sugden is miffed. Great start. 

“Hi. Yeah. Good morning. I’m here to take you to work, Mr Sugden. Paddy asked me.”

“Where’s Paddy?”

“He can’t work today because of his hours… after last night. He got home three hours ago after 19 hours up. It’s for safety, sir. Yours and his. It’s one of our firm’s policies. He needs appropriate rest before he can come back. I promise you’re in good hands today.”

“Who are you?” 

“Aaron. I’ve got ID if you want to check when you come out.”

“Well, Aaron. You’ll have to wait a few minutes. I have some... cleaning up to do here first.”

“No problem, Mr Sugden. I’ll be waiting.”

He hangs up.

Well he seems charming. Not. 

The gates don’t open so I assume that he’ll walk out to me. I step out of the car to inspect it. It was polished to within an inch of its life when I drove it out of depot. But these country roads have already thrown mud splashes onto the paint work. Not a problem. All _ Grace Chauffeur _ cars come prepared. I open the boot, get some cleaning kit out and get it gleaming again.

Ten minutes of waiting and two Hotten taxis drive up and park behind me. Moments later I watch a woman, dressed in a bright yellow short dress, walk out of the mansion and down the long drive towards the gates. She must be one of Sugden’s dirty stop outs. She jumps into the first taxi and it drives off. I’ll hazard a guess who the other taxi is for. Maybe the reason Sugden is late is that he’s getting in one more round with his remaining guest.

Ten minutes become twenty. Then thirty. I consider ringing him again but decide against it. I am not the only one becoming impatient. After forty minutes, the second taxi driver gives up and drives off without a passenger. 

Alex pops into my head so I text him.

_ Sorry if I came across like a dick. All _

_ this is a bit new at this. I’m still trying _

_to _ _find my feet. Instead of dinner out _

_ tonight, I could bring some _ _Mexican _

_t_ _ake out? What do you think_

He replies straight away. 

_ Yeah. Sounds great. We can go _

_wild and crack _ _open some tequila_

_too! _

_ No chance! I haven’t drunk it _

_ since college. It’s my kryptonite. _

_ Interesting….! _

I smile.

_ See you later _

_ x _

To pass time I walk down the country road towards the field next door which appears to belong to an adjoining farm. Three horses are grazing and wandering lazily in it. I lean on the waist high metal gate that leads to them and click my tongue to try and catch their attention.

“Hey, horsey.” 

I smile when one of them saunters over to me cautiously. It’s a handsome beast. Confident stride. Dark brown coat. Elegant lines. As it approaches me, I realise that I have no treats. 

“Hiya fella.” I tentatively reach my hand out, palm up when it’s two arm lengths away from me. “Sorry. I’m empty handed.”

“Hey!”

I nearly jump out of my skin.

I turn towards the voice.

“Get away from my horse!”

There is a guy standing next to my car.

“I wasn’t trying to-”

“I said, get the fuck away!” He shouts over at me. 

Then he smiles as if to give away the joke.

This must be Robert Sugden.

I smile too as I point at the horse. “Sorry. I used to ride a bit just a mile down the road in the village. It’s been ages since I seen one, a horse I mean, in the flesh.”

_ Shut up, Aaron. He doesn’t fucking care. _

“That’s a touching story.” Sarcasm. Fantastic. 

“I’m your driver by the way.” I raise a hand in greeting as I start to make my way to him.

“No shit.” He leans against my car as if he owns it; his weight going through his right leg and my vehicle to spare his left limb. “I thought you were the milkman.”

He’s a dick with asshole energy. But he’s also youthful, tall and blond. It halts my stride for a second. I didn’t expect blond. It is noteworthy because he is blonder than literally everyone in my life. I am surrounded by a sea of black- and brown-haired people. 

His look is casual corporate, high-end designer but not flashy; dark grey suit/ white shirt/ no tie/ open collar. His body has tone that pushes against the fabric of his clothes. I am guessing that the sunglasses are necessary after last night. His head must be killing him.

He’s fit basically. Effortlessly good looking.

I didn’t expect that. 

Not that it matters.

He keeps his shielded gaze on me until I reach the car. He doesn’t move a muscle. He doesn’t say a word. I am under his microscope and it feels exposing as fuck. 

I offer him a handshake, but he doesn’t take it. “I’m Aaron.”

He takes his sunglasses off. His brilliant blue eyes slowly look me up and down. They might be tired, but they still seem alert somehow. Forensic. I imagine he is assessing what I am wearing, how I am standing, how trustworthy I am to do the job. I feel heat and discomfort. My belly flops as imposter syndrome sets in. 

I am not a chauffeur. He’ll realise soon enough, and we’ll lose this opportunity of a lifetime.

“You said you had ID?”

“Yeah. Here.” My throat feels tight and dry. I clear it and show him my driving licence.

He takes the card from me without asking and examines it. “Aaron Dingle.”

I nod. There is a directness and authority in his manner that has me on edge. All the hairs on my body are standing up.

“You’re twenty-four.” He fixes me with a stare.

I nod again. 

He looks back at the card. “You live in Hotten?”

Relevance?

“Yeah. Yes. Just seven miles from here. Our business is based there too so.” Sell. Sell. Sell. “We are conveniently located to offer a personal and responsive service if you or your company need it in the future.”

“My company is based in Leeds.”

“Which is fine because we are a chauffeuring company so we can travel to you.” 

I smile.

He doesn’t return it. 

“Okay. Aaron.” He stretches my name out as he puts his sunglasses back on. “I am only going to remind you of this once. I do not like to be kept waiting. When you are on the clock, assume that your time belongs to me. I walked up to the car to get to work and there you were trying to pet animals. Do you see the problem?”

I clench my hands into fists. I am not used to being spoken down to or being treated like some fucking possession. Plus, the cheek that he has of having a go at me for keeping him waiting when he has just had _ me _wait for him for nearly an hour. 

“Of course.” I say through clenched teeth. 

“And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t attempt to befriend my horses. They are in the process of being trained for a race.” 

Fuck him. 

“I understand.” I say.

“Good.” He places my licence card against my chest, his palm trapping it against me. I try not to react as I feel his warmth through the material of my shirt and my heart beating quickly against him. 

When he lets go, I try to grab the card, but it falls to the ground. 

“Nice suit, by the way.” He mutters as he grabs his crutches and briefcase, opens the back seat of the car and hops into it in one continuous move. 

He winces as he settles in. That reminds me that although he is an asshole, he is a wounded asshole. I soften a little. Just a little.

I pick up my licence, pocket it and help him get his seatbelt on.

He fixes me with an angry stare. “I have a broken leg. There is nothing wrong with my fucking hands.”

I step back. Without a word he slams the back-seat door shut.

I get behind the wheel and look at him through the rear-view mirror. Good looks do not make a man. I am not even five minutes into this job and Robert Sugden has riled me right up. 

My eyes narrow. 

I can’t help myself from giving lip.

“I wanted to apologise for the fact that I am not driving you in your usual car, Mr Sugden.”

“Excuse me?”

We lock eyes through the mirror.

“We pride ourselves on our cars being in immaculate condition at all times. So, I want to assure you that if hypothetically, there was a scenario where a client and his guests soiled one our cars, for example, in the backseat after a club night-” I turn to face him and give him an innocent look. “- We would ensure to have that car cleaned until it looked brand new before returning it to business.” I give him a sweet smile, like butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth. “I really hope that, in the meantime, you find this car to be equally comfortable and to your liking.”

His eyes widen as he realises that I know about last night, but I’ll give him credit for recovering quickly. He puts on a small knowing smile as I face forward again.

He knows the game I am playing. It’s a shaming game. I am not proud of myself, but I want to get under his skin and irritate.

“That’s kind of you to ask. Yes, this car is fine.” He leans towards me while keeping our eyes locked in the rear-view mirror. His face is close enough behind me to feel and smell his minty breath against my neck. “I would even say that this back seat is better. More leg room. More space for... transactions to be done.”

I nod numbly. He doesn’t seem in any way bothered by my attempt to shame him. It is like water off a duck’s back. This round goes to him. Sugden-1. Dingle- nil. 

He leans back again, digs out a tablet and starts working. 

Round two.

“Shall I start off or... are we waiting for your other guest. I wonder whether she needs a ride somewhere?” I ask.

He lifts an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“Well, while I was waiting here earlier two taxis arrived. One took one of your guests from last night but the other taxi left empty handed so I was wondering whether you would like to wait for her and give her a ride somewhere.”

He smiles. “He.”

“Huh?”

“_ He _ is a big boy. I’m sure he’ll figure out how to get home when he’s ready.” 

Wait! What?

HE? He did say ‘he’, didn’t he? As in he had a woman and a man last night. Right?! Robert Sugden likes both men and women. Why didn't Paddy say? 

“It can be hard to get up after a long, sleepless night.” His expression is taunting, as if daring me to show disgust or offence at what he is saying.

There is something aggressively fearless about him. I find it almost admirable if I'm honest because he seems to give zero fucks about how people take his sexuality. I am not anywhere near as evolved as he is when it comes to that. 

I stay quiet but my face must give away something. I did not expect to feel any level of admiration or respect for this dickhead of a guy.

He really is an enigma.

And I have realised that when it comes to Robert Sugden I am better off taking Paddy's advice- _'All ears and eyes. No lip.'_

“Is there anything else you'd like to bring up, Aaron, or can I finally start my working day?” He asks.

I silently start the engine and get us on the road.


	3. That Fine Line Between Love and Hate

**Aaron**

I am not going to get into any more passive-aggressive verbal punch ups with Robert Sugden today. I can’t fuck this contract up. I have a family business to think about. 

I dropped Sugden off in front of the glass sliding doors of Sugden Industries headquarters this morning after I opened my big gob and created the tensest, silent and most awkward atmosphere during a car journey that I have ever experienced. It’s lunchtime now and I haven’t heard from him since. That’s unusual. Paddy has told me that Sugden uses him for just about everything throughout the day; from picking up dry cleaning to shuttling him to and from places to picking up his lunch, acquaintances and business associates.

He always eats out for lunch, which means he’s avoiding me. That’s the only explanation I can think of. He didn’t even bother looking at me as we arrived when he muttered, “I’ll call you if I need you.”

My reply and attempt at apologising were cut off when he hopped out of the car and slammed the door behind him.

Adam thinks I’m overthinking it when we speak on the phone.

“He’s going to fire me.”

Adam laughs. “Nah, mate. Look. Guys like Sugden don’t have time to worry about what guys like us think about him or say to him.” Yeah. I told Adam about car-gate. ‘Course I did. He’s my best mate. “No offence. You’re just not that important.”

“Thanks.”

“Well. It’s true, isn’t it? Look. If I was in your shoes, the next time I saw him I would act as if this morning never happened. Honestly.” Adam pauses. “It's not like you’re going to see him again after this, anyway, are ya?”

I roll my eyes. “Thank fuck.”

Adam laughs. “Hey, fancy grabbing a pint tonight?”

“Can’t. Busy.” Leeds. Alex. Mexican taken away. Hook up.

“Doing what?”

“Stuff.”

“Mate, I’m starting to feel rejected. You’ve been MIA, recently.”

Adam has been weirdly interested in my love life ever since I came out to him last year, so I'd prefer not to tell him about Alex so that he doesn't get too excited creepily attached to whatever is happening between me and him.

“Wait! Are you meeting someone?" He is practically screaming down the phone. "Are you dating?”

“No!”

“Yeah you are! No wonder you’ve been turning down having drinks on me.”

“You have never offered to pay.”

“Whatever… Are you spreading your new gay wings?” Giddy Adam is annoying. “Don’t let me hold you down, freshly hatched gay boy!”

“Shut up.”

“Is he someone off that app I told you about? Did I tell you that Finn’s got it?”

“No.”

“Look, if you want to go out to one of them gay bars and you need a wingman…I’m here.” He chuckles. “Although, actually, maybe it’s better if it’s not me. Gay guys love me, mate! You wouldn’t get a look in!”

I shake my head. “I’m going back to work.”

“What work? You’ve done jack shit since this morning.”

“Thanks for reminding me.”

He chortles. “Yeah, well I need to get back to Isabel. Apparently, she’s going through a bad time with her bloke so guess who is going to be her shoulder to cry on?”

I grin. “Nah. No. Don’t. Seriously.”

“I’m just going to tell her that she can do better than him.”

“Like you?”

“Yes!”

“He’s a pretty boy soap star earning at least four times what you earn.”

“Your point?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Look, the heart wants what it wants. She can’t help it if she falls for my killer looks and body, charisma, wicked sense of humour and je ne sais quoi.”

“Modest.”

“Yeah. That too. You can’t stop love, bro! Anyway, I’ve gotta go but my advice is, don’t bring what happened this morning up when Sugden comes out for his lunch. Just act normal. Okay?”

“Okay.”

I end the call and watch the steady stream of staff walking out from the Sugden’s building and taking a short walk towards the centre of Leeds which is filled with eateries and high street shops. I glance through the floor length windows and glass sliding doors that reveal the lobby within the building. No Robert Sugden. I check my phone. Nothing.   
I look up again and spot a familiar face who has recognised me too. He walks towards me with a confused smile.

“Aaron?”

My shoulders slump weighed down by awkwardness. “Hiya, Finn.”

Adam’s cousin is accompanied by a couple of smartly dressed work colleagues. They walk ahead of him and wait a few paces away from us.

“What are you doing here?” His eyes dart between the car, me and my suit.

“Driving Robert Sugden around.” I glance at my idle car. “Theoretically.”

“Oh! Yeah. His leg.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t think you chauffeured.”

“I don’t. Not normally.”

He nods, leans in and drops his voice “So, just to give you a head’s up, I was in a financial meeting with him this morning. He was in a foul mood. More than normal. And it’s not because of sales figures. They're looking good.”

Great. So now he has a foul mood overlaying his shitty personality.

“It’s probably because it’s only his second day back. He shouldn’t be back for another week at least. I know because of a guy I dated once. It’s not just the leg, is it? If you think about it the timing of his accident is a bit suspect and really sad actually. I feel for him honestly.”

What does he mean by that?

“Why?” I ask. 

Finn’s colleagues are becoming impatient and telling him to get a move on because their lunchtime is being eaten into. He faces me apologetically. “We’re going to a café five minutes down the road.”

  
“Isn’t there somewhere to eat in the building?” I glance into the lobby again looking out for Sugden.

“If you want death then there’s the canteen. The food’s crap and that’s the best bit about it. Have you brought lunch?”

“No.”

“Do you fancy joining us?” He asks, his blue eyes widening behind his glass lenses as he waits for my reply.

I point at the car as my answer.

“Yeah. ‘Course. Sorry. I can bring you something back if you want.” He offers.

“If it's not a bother." 

"Not a bother at all!" Finn looks at me like I look at a pint of lager at the end of a very long stressful day. He stares at my suit. “You look great by the way.” He clears his throat. “It’s been ages, hasn’t it? Like a few months.”

“Yeah.”

“It could be awkward, you know. You and me… after we...” He raises his eyebrows.

“Only if you keep harping on about it.”

“Yeah.” He blushes. “Maybe we could get a drink or something sometime. Catch up.” 

Catch up on what? We have never been proper friends. I size up his expression to decide whether he means a friendly drink, which is fine, or something else, which is not. “Yeah. Maybe. We could do a pub; you, me, Adam. I ‘an’t seen him in a few days neither.” 

He hesitates and nods. “Yeah. Cool.”

+

  
Sugden hasn’t needed me today. Not once. I’ve been stood in front of his workplace like a lemon, standing a little straighter every time the main doors have slid open in case it was him. Where is he anyway? It’s well past the end of the working day. I am about to ring him but stop myself. 

He's probably had his PA draft an email to the office that I'll pick up in the morning telling us we're fired. May as well let Paddy know now.

_18.30_

  
_Don’t get angry but I told _   
_Sugden that I knew what _   
_happened in the car _   
_yesterday_

_18.31_

  
_Which means he knows that _   
_you told me.... _

_18.31_

  
_Sorry!!!! But he was rude _   
_and he riled me up_

_18.31_

  
_He hasn’t fired me though. _   
_Yet. So you still have the job!_

_18.32_

  
_I think. For now. _

_18.32_

  
_I’m sorry. I fucked up_

_19.02_

  
_Are you seriously not up yet?_

_19.02_

  
_Or are you blanking me_

Paddy is reading the texts. 

I can picture him; red faced with anger. Glasses steaming up like a cartoon character. Thinking up ways to lay into me about how my stubbornness and pride are my undoing. I need this job to be over. I want to unwind. I need to de-stress. I could do with seeing Alex. What time is Sugden going to be done?

I walk up to the building doors and they slide open. I lean into the warmth of building, but I don’t take a step inside. The reception area is empty except for a security guard at the desk. His face is right up against his mobile phone’s screen.

“Hiya.” 

He looks pissed off at being dragged away from his phone. “Yep.”

“What time are people done at the end of the day?”

“Depends. Pretty much everyone has gone now.”

“Mr Sugden?”

He shrugs. “No.” He goes back to his phone.

I sigh. “What I mean is, when will he be done?”

“I’m not his PA, lad.” He mumbles. “You reckon you could move away from the doors? Draft is coming in.”

I step back into the cold and my phone starts to ring. It’s Paddy.

“Hi, baby.” It’s not Paddy. It’s mum using Paddy’s phone which means she’s read my messages to him and she’s pissed off.

“I can explain.” I say.

“No Aaron. You had to keep your trap shut for one day. ONE!”

“You shouldn’t be reading other people’s messages.”

“No. Nope. Don’t turn this around on me!”

“Yeah but-”

“No ‘but’!”

I pull the phone away from my ear at mum’s shrill voice.

“He started it.” I mumble.

“You ain’t a child in a playground, love.” She’s disappointed. “What am I going to tell Paddy when he wakes up?”

“He’s still asleep?!”

“No. He’s been up helping me with things and went back to sleep a couple of hours ago. Not that that’s the point.”

“Sugden was being a dick. I’m sorry.”

“What did he do?”

“He basically told me that because I was being paid, I was at his beck and call. Whenever. Like a slave.”

“Did he call you his slave?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then that’s exactly what you should be doing; driving him around and not giving him lip!”

She’s really miffed.

“It’s the way he said it!” 

“I don’t care! You’ll kill yourself on your principles.” Mum exhales. “I hope you apologised.”

“Yes.” I mutter. “Kind of.”

“Your uncle would have done a better job.”

“Nah. Cain would have killed him.”

“How do you know it wouldn’t have been the other way around? I’ve heard that Robert is cutthroat.”

I shrug at no one. 

Mum changes tact. “Where are you? Have you had your tea?”

“No.”

“Fancy dropping round for some food?”

Mum isn’t much of a cook but what she makes she makes with love even if it is baked beans on toast with a couple of fish fingers over the top. 

“I’m still at the office.”

“He’s not done yet?”

“No.”

“I am pretty sure that Robert’s done from work at five on the dot. That’s what his PA told Paddy.”

I check the time- 19.08 - and feel a small knot form in my centre. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. It’s one of his things. It’s why he starts so early. So that he can finish bang on time.”

That knot tightens as panic sets in. Why isn’t he done yet? Is something wrong? “Mum. I’ve got to go.”

“Wait. Aaron-”

I end the call, run into the building and shout at the security guard, “Where’s his office?” 

“Whose?”

Is he shitting me? “Robert’s! Mr Sugden!”

“Oh. First floor. End of corridor. Black door. Can’t miss it.” He says with complete boredom.

I take the stairs three at a time and sprint down the long corridor of the first floor past dimmed inactive offices shielded by a combination of glass and wooden doors either side of me. My heart is pounding when I stop at the end. The black door facing me looks impenetrable, but it is slightly ajar with an embossed metal sign:

**Robert Sugden**   
**Chief Executive Officer**

**Sugden Industries**

I knock and wait. No answer. I step into the office to find Sugden asleep at his desk, slumped in a plush leather executive chair which is slightly reclined because of his weight. His neck is stretched back in a way that he will feel when he wakes up. His mouth is open, puffing out a soft snore with every outward breath. He looks younger in his sleep. Less overwhelming than when he is awake. Less hard. Less ‘fuck boy’. 

His desk is covered with piles of work, but I don’t think that was what he was doing when he fell asleep. He is holding a framed picture in his arms; cradling it in a loose hug. Its face is against his stomach and it looks close to falling from his grip.  
  
“Mr Sugden.” I whisper.

  
No reaction. 

I walk closer to him, up to the desk. I’ve been so focussed on the ugly attitude he showed this morning that I had forgotten my first impression of him. FIT. He is seriously fit. And sexy. Really. It’s in the shape of his body and the way he positions himself. Even now, laying back in accidental sleep when most people would look awkward as fuck, he looks handsome.

My eye clocks something on his desk. It doesn’t just have files on it. There are three pictures in one corner of it with similar framing to the one he holds in his arms. One is an old photo of a young mother holding her sleeping baby with pride. Her blue happy eyes and blond straight hair are his. Baby Sugden. Another picture shows him as a young boy beaming and sitting in the driver’s seat of a stationary tractor with a man who I assume to be his father on some farmland. Yet another photo shows him as a teenager, serious and broody, standing next to a laughing, joyful dark-haired boy about his age. They are Yin and Yang. 

There are no recent pictures. These are representations of his past. And there are no family portraits, just individual snapshots of individual relationships he has had. The pictures show family but there is something nostalgic and sad about it. That is the thing about photos; they never replace the real thing. 

Sugden moves in his chair and I nearly have a heart attack. I hadn’t realised I had gotten so close to him while nosing. Luckily, he is still asleep, so I slowly lean away from him but it’s too late. I am not even a metre from him when his eyes spring open. 

We look at each other for a moment that drags on with the same awkward, tense energy that we had in the car journey to work this morning.

“Sorry.” I clear my throat. “I was worried. About you. That’s why I’m here.”

I realise that I mean it. I was worried. See. I am not such a shit chauffeur. Paddy always says that a driver’s top priority is his client’s wellbeing even when that client is a twat.  
“Ever heard of knocking?”

I did. Asshole.

He sits up slowly and looks up at me with red eyes. If they couldn’t have been explained by lack of sleep, I could have easily believed that they were due to shed tears. He rubs them with the heel of his hand in a way that reminds me of a child. He grips the photo in his other hand closer to his chest. 

Like this morning, he stares at me with such intensity that it feels like an attack. Like every atom of my being is being evaluated. I get it. Coming into his office, with all its high-level business secrets, while he slept was a bit of a dodgy move. But, unlike this morning, the strength of his gaze, its power and depth are affecting me. He brings my heart rate and my temperature up. It’s impenetrable. I can’t tell what he is going to do. I get this rising feeling that I can’t quite explain or recognise. 

I swallow and that shifts his attention to my neck. 

“Why so nervous?”

He really is close. Too close. 

“I’m not.” But I am and I don’t know why.

“Your heart’s beating like the clappers. Right there.”

He reaches out with a finger and for a second I think he’s going to touch me right where my artery is betraying me by pulsing so hard that he can see it. He stops short of contact.

“I … uh … ran up the stairs.” That is true but it is not the reason for how I am feeling. 

I don’t know what I’m feeling.

His grin is small. “Then you need to work on your fitness.”

“Yes.”

“What time is it?” He asks. 

“Seven thirty. I think everyone else has gone home.”

“Shit.” He puts the photo down on the desk gently, face down.

Who is in that picture? 

He stares at me. “Let’s go.”

+

The trip is in silence as I head down the A road that takes us out of Leeds. My phone vibrates on the front passenger seat. It’s Alex but I can’t answer. He sends a message, but I can’t check it. Every so often I glance at Sugden in the rear-view mirror. Every time, he is looking out of the window, deep in thought as if he has the world’s problems perched on his shoulders. 

“I’d like to swing by the pub before I go home.” He says as we drive into Emmerdale village.

Fuck’s sake. It’s late and I’m starving.

“The Woolie?”

Last time I went to that pub it was a bit of a dive. I can’t see Robert’s crisp expensive aura fitting in.

“Do you know any other pubs in the village?” He snaps.

I stop myself from reacting to his tone and take a detour towards the village’s main street.

+

“Where are you?” Alex asks.

I glance at the front door of the Woolpack pub while leaning against my car. “Emmerdale. I’m going to need to rain check tonight. I am still working.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. God, I’m hungry though and I’m stood outside of a pub waiting for him...” I groan to show my exasperation. “Do you reckon it would be weird if I went in too and ordered meself a cheeky sarnie?”

A loud group of lads walk past me and into the pub. Singing. Shouting. Carrying on.

I hear Alex sigh. “Look. You don’t need to lie if you’ve decided to hang out with your mates instead of me. If you don’t want to meet up, just say so. If I have spooked you about going on a date then I’d rather you told me.”

“What? No.”

“It’s just dinner and hanging out, Aaron. Not a marriage proposal. Get a grip.”

“Wait. I’m not lying to you. I am working.”

“You have commitment issues.” 

I can’t deny that but there is a reason behind that. It’s only been a year since I’ve come out and even then, I’ve only told those closest to me. I’m not ready for the branding that comes with being in a same sex relationship. The reactions from others. The constant corrections I’d have to make.

‘Would you like a drink while waiting for your girlfriend?’

‘No. My boyfriend is nearly here.’

‘Oh.’

The thought of being seen and treated as different. It brings me up in hives.

Alex bites back. “Let me know when you fancy more from me than a blow job.”

He ends the call before I have a chance to answer.

+

Sugden stumbles out of the pub after closing time and hobbles up to the car, wincing with every misplaced step he takes on his broken leg. I know he is drunk straight away. I don’t realise how much until he accepts my help to get him into his seat with no resistance, smiles at me and tells me, in a soft gin-laden voice, 

“Thanks.”

In response I give him a small but genuine smile. Why isn’t he like this all the time?... Without the booze obviously. 

“No problem. It’s my job.” 

+

We get as far as his drawing room and stumble inside. Sugden drapes himself on me, his heavy arm across my shoulders, his gin-soaked breath against my neck as I direct him to a large couch. I am taking most of his weight so that when he collapses onto the seater, he takes me down with him.

He laughs and so do I as I partially land on him with a clumsy thud. 

“Sorry!”

He lifts an eyebrow as he looks up at me and murmurs, “Well hello, sexy.”

I untangle myself from him and stand back up. It’s as though his words have electrocuted me and caused a flutter in my heart. He’s drunk so he’s lost his inhibitions and common sense. He’s speaking nonsense, I tell myself.

He shakes his head. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” 

Awkward moment number 13,456,789. 

My plan is to a) find a throw or blanket to cover him with because this home is huge, cold and unwelcoming, b) bring him some water to drink and c) make sure he’s settled safely down here for the night before I make my way home.

Sugden has other plans. He tugs on my hand.

“Hey. Hey. Let’s do shots. I’ve got some gin over there.” He slurs and points at the bar which is on the other side of the room. 

I try to prise my fingers from his grip unsuccessfully. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Fine.” He swats at me and tries to stand up. “I’ll get it myself.”

I push him to both our surprise. The alcohol and his duff leg mean that he falls back onto the couch easier than a bowling pin.

“Okay. I’ll get you something.” I say. “Stay there.”

I walk up to the bar, grab bottled water from the fridge and pour him a tall glass. I give it to him and watch him down it.

“It’s water.” He mutters. “You’re fired.”

I smile. “I saved your liver. I deserve a pay rise.”

“Or let’s factor in your mouth this morning and call it even.” He gives me back the empty glass. 

“Deal.”

I think this is us burying the hatchet and it feels good.

He leans back, his head falling against the back of the couch, his arms landing powerlessly by his side, his dodgy leg stretched out in front of him. He looks blankly at the large room that we are in. “You’re withholding my distraction.” 

He looks as empty and lifeless as his home.

“Alcohol is your distraction?” 

Distraction from what?

“One of them.” He closes his eyes. “There are others, but they aren’t available to me at this very moment.”

“Like?”

“Work.” His blue eyes open to focus on me. “Sex.” 

I feel the hairs on my skin go up. My throat dries up. I don’t know where my mind is going but it wants to stop being a horny mess. 

“That’s a slippery slope, Mr Sugden. Drinking yourself to distraction.” 

“Are you telling me what not to do?”

“No.” I glance at him. “Actually, yes. Sort of.”

“It’s Robert by the way. Mr Sugden was my dad.”

Paddy calls him Mr Sugden and I’m pretty sure that most of his employees call him that too, so I’m not going to fall for whatever trap he’s laying out for me. 

“No. It’s Mr Sugden. You’re my boss.”

“Your boss.” He nods like he is thinking it through. His chuckle is hollow. Humourless. “No. Not anymore, I’m not.”

Fuck. Is he firing our firm? “Wait, what do-”

“I’m not firing you, Aaron. I’m saying it’s late. I’m releasing you for the day.”

“Oh.”

“Tell Paddy I’ll see him tomorrow.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Yeah. Thanks. I will.”

I won’t see Robert Sugden again. Our paths haven’t crossed before today and there is no reason for us to meet in the future. He is as much of an enigma now as he was when I first met him. More so because there is a story behind this man that I have only scratched the surface of. A story that explains why he lives in this mansion alone, why he feels the need to drink, work and fuck himself to distraction. Why, how and if this links into the injury he has recently experienced.

Sugden is the kind of guy who fills a room with his presence. Yet he disappears in the vast space of this drawing room which itself is only a fraction of the house. He seems small and insignificant in it. 

Alone in this isolated fortress of luxury. 

It’s that loneliness that I relate to. Because, even though I have been surrounded by people I love most of my life, I have held a secret close to my chest that has distanced me from those who care about me. For many years I was unable to accept a vital part of who I am.   
I get the pain that comes from loneliness especially when from the outside things look good. 

“Aaron.” Sugden says my name because I have stopped at the threshold of the drawing room with my back to him. Not yet going. Not quite staying.

I turn to him not knowing quite how I’m feeling, what I am thinking or what I am about to say. "I'm not on the clock anymore. am I?"

He shakes his head. "Nope."

“Have you eaten yet?”

He seems surprised by my question. “No.”

I nod. “Neither have I. I’m hungry.”

“I’m not.”

I nod again and I walk up to him. Hunger is hunger is hunger and I'm hungry and he is sexy and I think he's sending me signals and Alex has rejected me and we're not clicking anyway and I do reckless impulsive things sometimes and I know that Sugden does too. This is what is going on in my head as I come to a stop in front of him. He sits up straight as he gets on my wavelength as he realises that I am about to do what I am about to do. I might regret but I don't care right now because it feels right and I want to.

So my body ignores my brain and my hand combs through the thick mop of blond hair on his head and his hand rests on my hip and I make my meaning clear when I whisper.

“Yeah, but I am.”


End file.
